


Exactly Twelve O’Clock at Night

by Pants (Smarty_Pants)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, But also Patrick, Canon except where it’s not exactly, David Rose deserves a happy ending, Don't look too closely at details/timeline, Hang in there folks, He's had some bad people in his life, It gets dark, It gets painful, Kissing, Love, M/M, New Year’s Eve, The clock strikes twelve, Timeline What Timeline, but then it gets better, it gets sad, timeline shmimeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27768817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smarty_Pants/pseuds/Pants
Summary: It never works out for David. Until it does.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Sebastien Raine/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 47
Kudos: 224
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	1. Five Times

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Five times David Rose didn’t get a kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve and one time he did. He _really_ did.
> 
> This fic is in two chapters.  
> Chapter 1: Sad. Varying degrees of angst  
> Chapter 2: Hopeful. Smut and happy ending
> 
> Also.....I am thrilled to acknowledge my incomparable beta and friend (& writing partner), Five678Patty. I actually started this fic last year and when I mentioned it, she gently convinced me to dust it off, persevere and get it done. I’m so grateful to have this one in my life!

**Maybe It’s Much Too Early in the Game**

David doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s never at ease when Adelina is visiting her family during the last two weeks of the year. He knows she deserves a break, deserves to escape the Rose family craziness—especially at the holidays, which are important to her. The rest of the staff can handle putting on the family’s over-the-top Christmas party without her. She has a right to get away. He’s old enough to appreciate that.

Now that David and Alexis have entered their teens, Adelina has become not so much a nanny anymore; really she’s more of a household manager. But she’s no less the center of David’s orbit. His mother is like a cold distant moon that he looks to for beauty, for inspiration, but not for guidance much beyond his wardrobe. His father’s a ghost planet, hard to locate with the naked eye. Never around—or if he is, he’s either talking about work or on the phone with work. David is very uninterested in that. And Alexis is a rogue star, moving independently towards the intergalactic void, already taking part in activities far beyond her years. Lately, David has been getting stomachaches thinking about what she’s doing whenever she’s not at home.

Adelina is different. Real, warm, solid—ready with a hug, ready with encouragement. She’s the one who looks at awkward candy-necklace-wearing raver David at 16 and sees someone sensitive, intelligent, and lovable. She softens his edges and makes him feel safe. He adores her.

Adelina being gone over New Year’s is particularly difficult this year when there’s a house party David is trying to avoid. Alexis at 13 has already snuck out to this bash with kids five and six years older than her. Although with Adelina away and Mr. and Mrs. Rose taking off to Aruba for a month, she didn’t have to do much sneaking. Honestly no one notices where either of the Rose kids are most of the time. So, he could easily go to the rager at Monica Palmer-Hamilton’s parents’ beach house. He could see if Monica and Justin are still hanging out together. He could be the consolation prize if they broke up. For either one of them.

But then what?

It’s almost midnight and David is alone in his cavernous bedroom. He’s gone to bed telling himself he is tired and that’s why he is staying home. But now he’s wide awake and all alone. He can hear fireworks outside his window and he thinks of Adelina. She used to always have those loud confetti poppers for him when he was a kid. The noise scared him but she would hold his hand and tell him how brave he was. And he would be. For her.

He’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s just that it would be nice to have her here, that’s all. To hear her voice murmuring, _feliz año nuevo, mi querido,_ as she kisses his forehead.

Like she used to.

* * *

**Maybe I’m Crazy to Suppose**

David has been dating Manuel for about three weeks. It’s been arguably the weirdest relationship in his very weird dating history.

They meet in a regular way—at a nightclub and Manuel is hot. So hot. David, of course, is also hot and they are drawn to one another like two heat-seeking missiles. David—at 28—in his prime—has learned lots of tricks for getting people to want him. Not so many for getting them to stay.

So he and Manuel fuck in the club. They fuck in the elevator leading to David’s penthouse apartment. They fuck on the hard Italian tile floor in his foyer. They eventually make it to the soft king bed, where they remain for the next seven days, ordering food, dozing, waking and getting each other off, getting stoned on some impossibly strong weed that Manuel has, and occasionally trying to find anything they have in common beyond how well their bodies fit together.

After a week, Manuel gets a call and says he has a job booked and has to go. It makes David wonder but not enough to ask. He thinks this could be the end of it. But Manuel comes back that night and they continue to use each other’s bodies, sometimes roughly, sometimes tenderly, but never really personally. David isn’t completely sure Manuel knows his name is Rose...or David for that matter.

The sex and weed are so intoxicating and David doesn’t realize that Christmas and Hanukkah both pass without the slightest recognition. He does notice the cash in his wallet dwindling and can’t remember spending it all.

When Manuel gets another mysterious call for a booking on New Year’s Eve, David is seized by a sudden curiosity about this man. He tries an Internet search to no avail. He thinks about everything Manuel has ever revealed about himself but comes up with shockingly little. He doesn’t know his last name, where he’s from, or anyone else who even knows him. David vows to himself that he’ll confront him and get to the bottom of it.

Manuel returns late that night, very keyed up, his neck smelling of soap and baby oil. He flips David onto his stomach and fucks him into the mattress. David doesn’t ask any questions.

The next morning, David wakes alone. He feels empty and knows for sure this fling is over. He pulls on his robe, suddenly ashamed of the whole sordid scene. When he glances up at the mirror, he gasps. His face is painted all white, with a round red nose. His dark brows are drawn on in a bright blue, his smile is black.

He’s the clown.

David is the clown.

* * *

**Out of the Thousand Invitations You Receive**

David walks around his empty gallery. Hours earlier it had been filled with performance art lovers who’d mostly come out in order to be seen by one another raving about Janet Kempfluugen and her “groundbreaking” commentary on income inequality. The show had been shocking and titillating the first few times David had seen it. Now he’s just as bored with that as he is everything else in his life. Really, if you’ve seen one waifish artist wearing a fawn mask and breastfeeding members of the audience, well, let’s just say David has seen a lot of things in his 32 years.

After enough times, even Kempfluugen is a bit _meh._

But he’s done with that now and it’s closing in on eleven o’clock on New Year’s Eve and David is going to be seeing _the guy he has been seeing._ Dating. They are dating, for sure. For almost three months now. He is trying to tell himself that this is officially A Good Thing in his life. That Sebastien is A Good Person who really cares about him. That everything is Going Well.

Evidence is stacking up to the contrary.

They’d met at the end of September when the seasons were changing and the light at dusk seems different and New York City kind of vibrates with something like magic if you believe in magic. Which David does not.

But he tries to remember what it was like when it felt good with Sebastien. Did he ever feel good? He must have. Did they ever wear boots and kick fallen leaves from the sidewalk? Did they ever wrap each other up in scarves and share Irish coffees after catching a one-woman show at Ars Nova in Hell’s Kitchen? Did they ever surprise each other with tickets to see the Christmas lights at the Botanical Garden, braving the tourists and holding hands to keep each other warm?

Well, no.

Sebastien has a key so he comes and goes from David’s apartment whenever he wants. He also comes in David whenever he wants. And usually he forgets to call.

But this is New Year’s Eve and they have plans tonight. David gets home, orders hundreds of dollars of food from the expensive Korean steakhouse three blocks away and jumps in the shower. Sebastien texts and says he’s on his way. The food gets cold. The clock chimes 12. Around 3:45 he shows up drunk. Instead of holding David good and tight, he pushes him to his knees, fucks his face and then has to leave for an “important” engagement.

Oh. So. Happy fucking new year then.

* * *

**Just in Case I Stand One Little Chance**

The Rose family’s first Christmas in Schitt’s Creek is a literal shit show. The toilet in the motel is backed up again; no one comes to fix it.

Moira refuses to get out of bed. Alexis is barely eating. She seems to be in tights and earmuffs all the time, constantly red-cheeked as she is either getting back from or going for a run. Johnny—usually steady—is quiet. Too quiet. Like he’s finally been beaten down by their circumstances. None of them have ever seen their rock crumble like this.

David is still patching his relationship with Stevie back together after his mad dash to the Amish farm, which was meant to be New York, which was meant to be with her, which is how he found out her feelings for him weren’t over. They are being tender with each other, trying not to poke at the hurt places. When she asks him what he’s doing New Year’s Eve, he is so relieved. He won’t be alone. He’ll be with a friend then, thank god, drinking too much vodka and zhampagne. They can do this. They can find their way back. Laugh again. Maybe get stoned. Maybe she’ll understand. They are so much better like this anyway. They’d almost fucked up something they both really need. Now they get to have each other, and not just for some time. This is better.

New Year’s makes David think of Adelina, who he hasn’t talked to in months. She’s back in Guatemala now with her kids and grandkids. He could call her tomorrow. Wish her a _bendito año nuevo_. But last time he tried, Elvira came on the line and said her mom was forgetting things. And that it sometimes upset her to hear from people she couldn’t remember.

So maybe not then.

Stevie calls at 10:45. _It’s too soon, David,_ she says. _I can’t do it this year. I need to just not see you at midnight._ Next year will be better though. They’ll be okay. Just not...yet.

When the clock dings twelve times, David is plunging the toilet in the motel bathroom. He knows he can’t ask anyone for help this time. He wants to cry. He wants to gag.

He washes his hands with water as hot as he can make it for as long as he can stand it, dries them off, and crawls into bed.

* * *

**Here Comes the Jackpot Question in Advance**

David is alone again on December 31st, looking out the window, watching the snow blanketing the street in front of the motel. The clock is inching toward midnight. He picks up his phone which has been buzzing incessantly and reads the most recent texts from Alexis and Stevie. No one else is in the room to see the smile that slowly spreads across his face.

Alexis  
  
  
DAVID! Did you forget Twy’s party? We miss you, DAVID. Come here please  
Even mom and dad are here, David  
MOM AND DAD  
I think they are about to start dancing  


Stevie  
  
  
WHERE ARE YOU?  
I’m drinking ALL.THE.WINES.  
Srsly, do not expect there to be any wines left for u  
  
But get your asssss here anyway  
Happpy newyear, Daivd!  
Also, can bring mor wines?  
  


David hasn’t forgotten about Twyla’s party but he has a few things to take care of first. As the official Brand Manager of the Blouse Barn, Elmdale, he is currently responsible for the emotional texture of an upscale, high-end women’s clothing boutique. And it’s important that he be focused on keeping the aesthetic fresh. As he told Wendy, when he gets inspired, it only benefits her if he is able to capitalize on his ideas right away.

David pulls out his journal to get down a few thoughts he has for the new season of store displays, specifically to give the space a more directional feel.

  * _full-size black ostrich sculptures, 3_
  * _pure ivory beeswax candles, 6-inch diameter, 8_
  * _pure ivory beeswax candles, 8-inch diameter, 6_
  * _12 to 18—black ceramic crows (ebony? may need to price these?)_



He begins sketching a few images and after another 20 minutes feels good about the overall environment he is shaping. It may cost his employer a bit more than she planned, but fortunately these are all write-offs. So in that sense, money really is no object. He can explain this to her later.

Tomorrow, he’ll start the new year’s moodboard. Actually, maybe he’ll make two. One will reflect his intentions for his professional life and one will be for his personal journey. No. He’ll do three: one for Blouse Barn ideas, a second for whatever other work/career possibilities may present themselves, and the last for manifesting good things in his personal life, maybe even romance. That one he’ll keep private for now. 

David feels a bit of a thrill to do something well, surrounded by people who care. Who cheer on his successes. It’s obviously not the same as running his own gallery, but it’s strangely satisfying anyway.

He isn’t going to make it to the party by 12, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll get there and be with his family and friends. He’ll greet another year with the people who love him. It’s not the worst way to start something; it’s far from the worst.

He hears a clock chiming the hour in the distance.

Well, okay. Let’s see what this year has in store for David Rose.


	2. Plus One

**Whose Arms Will Hold You Good and Tight**

There’s a knock at the door. David goes from lying on his back on his twin bed to up on his feet in a matter of seconds, pulling the door open to greet his boyfriend with a hungry kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Patrick says. In that way he does. The way that means _I’m here. And I love you._ Patrick pulls David into his arms and his mouth moves searchingly, ravenously, over David’s soft lips.

“Mmmm. God, I missed you so much.”

It’s already New Year’s and it feels like they haven’t seen each other since the motel room party on Christmas Eve. Sure, they’ve technically seen each other—obviously they have—they work together. And he’s not blind, thank god, because Patrick in his painted-on jeans is a sight to behold. But they haven’t _seen_ each other. Not properly. Not outside of work (or, indeed, outside of their clothing).

Rose Apothecary has been busy all month and the shopping crowds never really faded even after the holiday rush should have been over. Between the Boxing Day Friends & Family Sale that David executed on his own (okay, _fine_ , he enlisted Alexis to work the register) and his trekking all over the surrounding Elms, visiting vendors and building goodwill in the form of gift baskets and wine, the boys have found it hard to connect. Throw in that Patrick spent two entire days basically on his own burrowed deep in their books, setting up new spreadsheet columns (or whatever it is he does with the business stuff).

It all adds up to the fact that during the past week, David and Patrick didn’t spend a single night in each other’s arms. Now it’s the last day of the year and all David knows is that he feels like an addict, craving Patrick. His smell, taste, the press of his solid body holding him down...his hands, fingers, mouth, thick cock. David doesn’t just want him; he wants to be consumed.

Tonight. Alexis is at Ted’s and Ray has out-of-town guests so Patrick is staying over tonight at the motel. All night. And maybe all day tomorrow if they can figure out a way to keep the rest of the Roses from barging in. Twyla had invited them to her annual get-together but the two men have something else in mind to ring in the new year.

“Get naked,” Patrick says, his words muffled only by their kissing. “Fuck, David. I need to see you right now.”

David has been given plenty of commands in his life and obeyed them all. When they evoked feelings of fear and anxiety—as they almost always would—he’d just desensitize with pills and alcohol. But hearing those words from Patrick pings an entirely different place inside him, somewhere warm and relaxed, where his brain can stop and just be still. It’s trust. David knows if Patrick takes over, he can surrender himself fully into his hands. And David doesn’t want to go numb right now. He wants to have and keep every moment, every touch, every feeling with Patrick.

“Yes,” he says, breathlessly. “I want that.”

He steps back, pulls his sweater gently over his head and folds and places it on Alexis’s bed. He removes his silky undershirt and tosses it down a bit less carefully. Patrick inhales sharply as David exposes his chest. David feels his boyfriend’s eyes rake over him, his brown nipples pebbled in the cool air, the dark hair scattered from his collarbone across his pecs and stomach and leading down to the waistband of his black jeans—which he unbuttons as Patrick watches with wide eyes. As David starts to pull down his zipper, Patrick lays his hands over David’s, taking over and slowly unzipping him as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift. He tugs down David’s jeans and underwear in one motion and holds him in place there. With his thumbs digging into David’s hip bones and fingers stretching around the swell of his ass, Patrick grips him tightly as he sinks to his knees. The look on his face is as if he’s going to offer a prayer of thanks.

“Can I?” he asks, his mouth poised a few inches from David’s hard cock. David basks in the dazed look of reverence in Patrick’s eyes. He’ll never get over the care Patrick takes with him every time, checking in at every step. Even now, when David would surely let him claim whatever he wanted. He doesn’t seize. He asks to be given.

“Please?” he asks again.

“Anything,” David answers. “Everything. Yes, Patrick. Yes, your mouth, yes.”

Patrick drops feather-light kisses to the tip of David’s dick and sucks ever-so-lightly, his tongue swirling around the slit. David knows he’s already so wet, leaking pre-come for Patrick, and he groans at the sensation as he starts gently fucking in and out of Patrick’s warm wet mouth. His shallow thrusts get rougher and messier until Patrick lays his tongue flat and takes David’s cock all the way deep into his throat, holding him there. Neither of them move for a moment and David is surrounded, enveloped, tucked in. Just completely taken care of.

David feels a sudden rush of emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. The year they are leaving behind is possibly the best one of his life. And it’s not only about meeting Patrick and feeling truly seen and known and loved by this sweet man—who is currently taking him so well, David’s engorged cock filling up his throat. Yes, he thinks, as he thrusts his hips forward, it’s a whole lot about Patrick. 

But truth be told, it’s about David learning to see himself, know himself, love himself, too. It’s why he could be open to finding someone else to love at all. So, it’s about Patrick, but it’s also everything that has led to this moment.

The words from a poem he once heard pop into his head:

_Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?_

And he thinks now maybe he knows the answer to that question.

David pulls out before Patrick starts to choke. As he withdraws, he tilts Patrick’s face up so that the ropey veins in his neck are prominent and he cradles Patrick’s head in his hands. David loves seeing Patrick like this, ready to take more, willing to give everything for David’s pleasure. He looks up through his eyelashes. 

“I love you,” Patrick says. David nods, feeling too fragile to speak in the moment. “Is this what you want? Me on my knees sucking you off? Tell me. How do you want to come tonight?”

“I want— I want you to fuck me into the new year.”

Patrick looks like he might cry from relief and desire and a million other feelings threatening to shatter them both. He stands and flips them around so David’s back is to the bed. Then Patrick is pushing him down and pinning his arms above his head against the headboard. “Keep your hands here. For me,” he says. “Hold your legs like this. For me,” he says, as he bends David’s legs at the knee and spreads them wide. And David holds his limbs perfectly still with no restraints, for Patrick, feeling completely laid bare and utterly turned on.

Patrick lightly trails his fingers back and forth across David’s torso, maintaining contact even as he leans over to the side table to remove the lube from the drawer. He drops the bottle onto the bed next to David and reclines on his side, propped on his elbow, just looking over David, taking him in. He lubes his fingers and gives David’s cock a few slow strokes before reaching back to touch David’s hole.

“Oh. Oh _fuck_ ,” David says. “Please. Please, Patrick, I need—”

“Shh. I got you,” Patrick says as his fingers trace around the tight pucker. He tugs on David’s rim gently, slipping one slick finger in. To the knuckle and then all the way. David squirms and sighs, encouraging Patrick to keep going, as one finger becomes two and then three. Patrick stretches David, scissoring his fingers back and forth, and David can feel the delicious burn reach every nerve ending in his body. He could stay like this forever with Patrick's talented fingers in his ass taking him apart so thoroughly. He wants that; it feels so good. But he also wants more.

“Now, Patrick. Please. I need you.” He glances over at the clock; it’s well after 11 now. Patrick sheds his clothes quickly and crawls into bed with David. The two men twist their bodies together under the covers in the tiny twin. When Patrick enters him with his solid sureness, pushing in and filling him up, it’s everything David needs. Like he’s been broken open and made whole at the same time. They move together and it’s incredible. It just feels so right. This isn’t their first time—not even close—but tonight still feels like something is being reborn. And David can’t think of any way he’d want to begin again and again (and again) than right here with Patrick.

When they come together, it’s messy, it’s beautiful, it’s just moments before the end of the year. 11:58 p.m., in fact, according to the bedside clock. David huffs out a laugh, unexpected tears springing to his eyes. Leave it to Patrick to give him exactly what he’s asked for, exactly what he needs.

“Right on the dot, huh, honey?” he teases.

Patrick grins and lowers his swollen lips to gently brush against David’s in the softest, sweetest kiss imaginable.

“Happy New Year, David Rose,” he says, as the clock strikes twelve. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title and section subtitles are all from “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” written by Frank Loesser in 1947 and one of my all-time favorite holiday songs.
> 
> The line of poetry David recalls as he’s getting a very nice blowjob from Patrick is from “The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver, 1992. If he was born in 1983, theoretically Adelina could have read this poem to him as a young boy.


End file.
